


white lilies and carnations

by chiarascura



Series: overwatch ficlets [27]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Parent Death, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 00:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiarascura/pseuds/chiarascura
Summary: Fareeha mourns Ana's death.





	white lilies and carnations

**Author's Note:**

> this is definitely me projecting onto Fareeha and it was cathartic so. have this.
> 
> hints of ana/reinhardt.

The room smelled of sickly sweet flowers, as bouquets and stands covered the entirety of one table against the far wall and spilled out beside it. Fareeha had never been one for floral scents, and after this she might associate this smell with death forever. 

Her eyes locked on to the table and focused on one specific bouquet with white lilies and carnations. It was a bit smaller than the others, certainly not as grand as some of the towering monstrosities that acquaintances had sent. This one was understated, intimate somehow and much closer to her mother’s simpler taste.

“I'm so sorry for your loss,” a voice interrupted her thoughts. Fareeha didn't recognize this person, and was sure she wouldn't be able to remember their face after a few minutes. She grimaced, hoping it looked more like a smile than the rictus it felt like, and dipped her head in thanks. The person continued but Fareeha didn't hear anything beside the cadence of their voice. Her eyes drifted back to the white bouquet.

The room was packed, bodies filling the entire space. Her mother was beloved, was cherished, was important and made an impact on so many people. Her work at Overwatch, in the Egyptian army, in her personal life when she held tea time or crocheting club.

The mourners gave her a little pocket of space, only occasionally disrupted by an over-enthusiastic person who wanted to shake her hand, and Fareeha was glad for whatever made her unapproachable. She was struggling enough as it is, and other people projecting their grief and dramatizing their own feelings against hers was unbearable.

The person speaking to her reached out to touch her hand, but Fareeha kept her fingers laced together behind her back. She nodded her head in acknowledgement and said something generic, some words of encouragement that she immediately forgot. 

The church hadn't been her idea, had been a choice more to appease Reinhardt, since Fareeha didn't care either way. She would have skipped this whole thing given the chance, but the broken look on his face made her give in. This was for everyone else. 

Jesse was a complete mess, bent over in the pew with his head in his hands to try and hide his puffy eyes and snotty face. Gabe sat beside him, eyes just as puffy and red but face otherwise stoic. Jack sat in the front row, accepting condolences from people not standing in the line stretching out in front of Fareeha. He had broken the news to her last week, his hard-ass demeanor cracking under the weight of his own grief. Fareeha had never seen him cry until then, and it felt wrong. 

Fareeha stood with her father and Reinhardt, but they accepted the condolences on her behalf. Her father smiled kindly, shook each person’s hand and looked in their eyes. Reinhardt cried as much as Jesse but whenever someone spoke of a lighter memory of Ana, he laughed boisterously and cherished the sentiment. Fareeha felt as if she was outside her body, looking down upon the service as a visitor, not someone who had just lost her mother. 

She looked at the bouquet again. There was no casket, no body to bury or burn. Just an emptiness, a weight on her soul and in her heart, that would never be filled. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr [@janeclawsten](http://janeclawsten.tumblr.com/) for overwatch and dragon age and you can send me prompts too


End file.
